


As You Wish

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Mycroft, Emotional Constipation, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pop Culture, The Princess Bride References, Top Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The results of showing Mycroft 'The Princess Bride' are unexpected, but perhaps they shouldn't be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Wish

Some time in their second year of dating Greg discovered that Mycroft apparently had been avoiding the cinema for the last thirty years. "You've never seen _Die Hard_?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. They were settling in at Greg's flat to watch a movie. "Is it important?"

Greg muttered something about ‘idiot Holmes’ and grabbed a few more DVDs. "What about these?"

"No."

That started a tradition. Once a month or so Greg would make popcorn and they'd settle on his couch and they'd watch a movie. Some Mycroft would just roll his eyes at, but Greg could always tell when the reticent man was secretly enjoying himself. No matter what else was going on, Mycroft always managed to find time for their movies.

One rainy autumn afternoon, Greg put on _The Princess Bride_. Mycroft started with arms crossed, but by the end of it he was leaning forward, an elegant hand on Greg's knee and completely neglecting his popcorn. Two nights later Greg found a copy of the book on his nightstand. Autographed.

Nothing more was said of it until late one winter night. Greg hated asking Mycroft for favors, but sometimes it was unavoidable. He told Mycroft what he needed, rubbing the back of his head. "As you wish," said Mycroft as he ended the call. Greg stared at his mobile, wondering if he'd misheard.

The following weekend they were watching _You've Got Mail_. Mycroft was lying with his head in Greg's lap. He was still in his waistcoat and trousers, eyes falling closed as Greg carded fingers through his hair. He knew from experience that romantic comedies were usually a good way to get him to fall asleep. He smiled gently and started undoing his buttons, glad to see the creases from work and worry on his face starting to relax.

Greg folded himself over and kissed Mycroft's lips.

"If that was intended to wake me," mumbled Mycroft without opening his eyes, "I regret to inform you that I am not a princess."

"You are to me, love." Greg kissed him again, starting on Mycroft's shirt buttons.

"As you wish."

Greg's hand stilled but Mycroft's eyes were still shut. He swallowed hard as the movie played on. Finally he went back to the buttons, tugging up Mycroft's vest to reach the freckles and fine red hairs on his chest. He kissed Mycroft again, feathering his fingers across his chest, then swallowed back a lump in his throat as he forced himself to watch the movie. Mycroft was soon snoring softly. When the movie finished, Greg shut of the TV with the remote and settled against the back of the couch. Certain Mycroft was sound asleep, Greg touched his cheek. "I love you," he whispered, closing his own eyes.

Neither of them spoke of it, but from time to time ‘as you wish’  fell from Mycroft’s lips and Greg’s heart would skip. Winter turned to spring and then summer and Greg finally started to run out of movies to show him. Mycroft would still come over and they’d watch other things or occasionally rewatch things Mycroft wanted to see again. But not that one.

Then came a stormy weekend. Greg was in a foul mood; he’d lost an officer a few days before and Sherlock was chasing down another murder suspect and Greg was uncertain if even _he_ could solve this one. Still, he made the popcorn, expecting Mycroft to appear at any time.

The front door to his flat opened and Greg stepped out with a big bowl of popcorn as Mycroft shook out his umbrella. “I brought a film,” he announced, hanging up his coat.

“Great,” smiled Greg, secretly afraid it was some 1920’s Russian film he’d fall asleep halfway through.

Mycroft stepped towards him and kissed him gently before turning to the telly and carefully putting in the DVD. Greg blinked as the menu came up and he saw what it was. A real smile bloomed on his lips. “Mycroft, fetch me the remote?”

“As you wish.” The younger man picked it up from the coffee table and put it in the detective’s hand.

Greg licked his lips and glanced around the flat. “Fetch me the tea?” he nodded at the cup on the table.

“As you wish,” said Mycroft, picking it up and carefully placing it on the end table next to him. Greg looked up at him. He was still dressed as properly as ever, an amused glint in his eyes and something else. Greg hooked his fingers in his belt loops and pulled him down into his lap.

“Mycroft, kiss me.”

“As you wish,” he whispered and gave him a kiss of heartbreaking tenderness. ‘ _Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind_ ,’ thought Greg. He chuckled softly against Mycroft’s lips, making the other man pull back and look at him.

“Nothing,” said Greg, cupping his hips. “But...let’s forget the movie for right now. I want you in my bed.”

Mycroft gave a rare smile. “As you wish,”  he said one more time, taking Greg’s hand and moving quickly down the hallway to the bedroom. Greg kissed him, stripping off his clothes until his handsome man was nude before him. Greg’s rough hands ran up his sides, feeling the strength Mycroft kept hidden. Stepping back, Greg got out of his own clothes while Mycroft got comfortable lying back on the bed, pulling out the lube. While Greg watched as he coated two fingers and started stroking his entrance.

Greg groaned as his lover pressed his fingertips inside, pleasure and pain crossing his face, blue eyes going dark with lust, soft pink tongue wetting thin lips. Cheeks flushed with desire and those delicious freckles like a constellation across his pale skin. Greg felt more than privileged to be here, to be the one to see him like this.

He crawled towards him on the bed, running his hands up his thighs, watching the way he touched himself before leaning down to lick the bead of precum from the head of his cock. Mycroft moaned and started fucking himself in earnest, eyes closing as he arched against the pillow. Greg kissed the inside of his knee, watching him, needing him.

“Gregory,” moaned Mycroft, after a few long minutes, withdrawing his fingers.

Quickly slicking his own cock, Greg pushed Mycroft’s knees to his chest and lined up, draping his lover’s ankles over his shoulders as he thrust forward. Mycroft cried out, all his pretences dropping as he surrendered. Greg would never get tired of seeing him just like this, of knowing he was the only one that ever got to see Mycroft Holmes just like this.

Mycroft was tight around him as he thrust deep and hard into him. A curse escaped his lover’s lips and Greg grinned. He loved Mycroft like this, messy and unravelled and _wrecked_. He pulled Mycroft’s legs tight against his chest, reaching down to stroke his cock. Mycroft’s lips formed another curse.

Sometimes Greg wondered if anyone would believe him if he tried to tell them just how salty Mycroft could be in bed. He wondered if he could ever describe the way his eyes looked when they were full of love and passion and desire. He wondered how he looked in Mycroft’s eyes.

Those storm-washed eyes focused on him. “Your mind is wandering, Gregory. Weren’t you _doing_ something?”

Greg growled. He let go of Mycroft’s cock and pinned his wrists, nearly doubling him over as he pounded into him. Leaning up in the limited space, Mycroft licked a hot stripe across his collarbone, making Greg shiver. He leaned in and kissed Mycroft, tonguing his mouth, feeling Mycroft’s cock sliding against his stomach. A few more thrusts and Mycroft was coming between them, hot and sticky, eyes squeezed shut. God, he was beautiful like this.

Groaning, Greg came as Mycroft squeezed around him. He dropped his lover’s legs and wrapped his arms around his back, holding him close, ignoring the mess. Mycroft kissed the top of his head.

When they could both breathe again, Greg raised his head and looked into Mycroft’s eyes. “I love you.”

A smile twitched across Mycroft’s lips. “I know.”

Greg laughed softly and kissed him. “Now that is a different movie entirely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by the end of Kat and I's fic "[Birds of a Feather](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1751618)"
> 
> Thank you to themadkatter13 and loveanddeathandartandtaxes.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
